Thoughts on a Shaken Martini
by NatalyasLament
Summary: The end of the Goldeneye incident, as told through James' innermost thoughts. This is a SLASH FIC, JamesAlec romance.


**Thoughts on a Shaken Martini**  
By NatalyasLament

* * *

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything to do with this story, excluding the  
dialogue and basic story line. All characters and persons are the work  
of another author.

* * *

It had become somewhat of a running joke about MI6. You know, "Bond  
always gets the girl." 

And it's true, I have a habit of shagging almost every woman I cross  
paths with.

Nobody really knows me. Valentin took great pleasure in ridiculing my  
drinking preference, as did others, but they didn't know me.

The one person who came closest was Alec Trevelyan. His knowing smile  
was the only weapon to take down my confident smirk, his soft gaze  
alone could defeat my steeled jaw, and his gentle touches could  
destroy my cocky quips.

I loved Alec. The playful banter, the secret kisses, and the witty  
dialogue all spelled out a beautiful relationship. I remember the  
Arkangel mission, our last mission together. The last memories I have  
of Alec involve a kiss in a dark storeroom and a gunshot from a  
Russian commandant named Ourumov. No matter the debriefings, the  
counseling, the lectures from M, I will always know that his death was  
my fault, and mine alone.

His last words never cease to echo in my head. Every time I see a  
fellow agent fall, I hear Alec's last cry of 'For England, James!' It  
has haunted me for all those seven long years.

The only person to find out about our romance was M (back then a  
male). He was a good friend, and trustworthy--he carried our secret to  
the grave.

All this brings me back to the running joke. Since Alec's death, I  
have always 'gotten the girl'--just trying to fill the hole that Alec  
left in my heart.

It never works. I always end up sneaking out after countless one-night  
stands. Maybe I'm too young to think about death, maybe I'm too much  
of an agent. Or maybe I'm just afraid to love someone that completely  
again.

In my early days as a 00 agent, it didn't matter what my sexual  
preference was, short of pedophilia. Once I became known, it was like  
an image I had to uphold. Alec and I shared a good laugh over it  
often, just before he would brush his lips across mine and slide his  
hands up my back, stopping to rub my shoulder blades...

But that is another story.

* * *

It was with great hesitance that I accepted the Janus mission from the  
new, woman M. Of course I never let on that there was any resistance.  
It just wasn't done. 

I got the usual speech from Q about 'make sure to bring it back in one  
piece', blah blah blah. And then I was off. It was a normal mission  
right up until I met Valentin at his headquarters. He promised to  
arrange a meeting with Janus, at least, that is what I heard over the  
awful strains of 'Stand By Your Man' sung by his best--and most  
expensive--prostitute.

I went in to the Statue Park as I usually do--with no expectations. It  
had cost MI6 a fortune to arrange this meeting, and I didn't want to  
waste it.

Janus stepped out, shadowed by a blinding light. And then my fragile  
world collapsed.

"Hello, James." A voice spoke, and with it came a wave of guilt, pain,  
loss, and longing.

The rest of the evening went in a blur. I was at a loss until  
regaining consciousness with a rather unattractive Russian woman  
swearing at me while I was chained to the pilot's seat of a doomed  
helicopter. Using my MI6 skills (don't leave home without them) I got  
us out, and proceeded to be arrested by Defence Minister Mishkin.

Not one of my best days.

* * *

It was always little things that made Alec who he was. He would never  
have forced himself on anybody sexually, never in his life. 

It was with surprise as I found out he had made several passes at the  
Russian girl, Natalya. It was totally uncharacteristic of kind, sweet  
Trevelyan to try anything on anybody.

It was another sign of how much he had changed, a fact I was  
constantly reminded of by the scars on his face from the gas explosion  
so long ago. His face was marred. The soft skin that I would shower  
with kisses was now rough and twisted.

Alec was always the master of irony.

He even had the nerve to bring up those 'six minutes', or so he called  
them, as he left me and the girl to die alone in his armored train.  
Another point of how much of a monster he had become.

His eyes were still the same as always. Those piercing ice-blue eyes  
could crack you open and see your innermost thoughts. How many times  
had I fallen under the spell of those eyes as we lay together, bodies  
twined into one, joined in every possible way...

* * *

Betrayal is the worst form of evil. Betrayal brings about horrendous  
consequences. I think Alec finally realized it as it was too late, as  
he was hanging off the edge of his masterpiece, looking mournfully  
into my eyes. 

For a moment, I considered bringing him up, sparing his life from certain end.

Then he said those three little words.

It was so faint, so innocent, that my heart fell to my stomach.

"...For England...James...?"

I couldn't take any more of the torment. I ended it there. "No. For me."

* * *

It still burns in me, the way the martinis used to, back when I  
started. Back when life made sense. Back when all I needed to do was  
take Alec into my arms and everything would be meaningful again. 

Rumour has it that I'll be heading to a mission in North Korea soon,  
the DMZ. Before I go, I'm responsible for cleaning all the leftover  
paper trails and memoirs from Alec's apartment. Ironically, perhaps to  
increase the betrayal, he listed me as next-of-kin in his will. MI6  
never activated it, in hopes that he might return, and God knows he  
did. But now that we have a body--Christ, this is Alec I'm talking  
about, my Alec--we can be sure he really has died.

I'm doing a lot more work around the office lately, to catch up after  
the Goldeneye incident. As such, I've gotten to know some of the  
up-and-coming agents better than usual.

Two caught my attention specifically. One is a suave gentleman from  
Scotland, and the other seems to be of Cossack descent. The boys are  
close, very close. Half of me is smiling and remembering while the  
other half is telling me that I should warn them before it's too late,  
before one is dead and the other can't handle his life. Before one  
tries to take over the world and the other tries to drown his sorrows  
in women and martinis.


End file.
